


Raijinto

by TheTacticianAlchemist



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: AU where Fuga is secretly Ryoma's dad, Father-Son Relationship, although it can be read that they aren't related at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6926281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTacticianAlchemist/pseuds/TheTacticianAlchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Fuga joins the army, he and Ryoma spar and reminisce about Sumeragi.</p><p>[oneshot based off a theory that Fuga is secretly Ryoma's dad, but it can be read without considering that.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raijinto

**Author's Note:**

> "if I marry Fuga, will Kana be bald?" I asked my followers. tumblr user fratressanguinum said, "it's gonna be Ryoma's hair color pretty much, maybe lighter"
> 
> cue the thought that one day Sumeragi wasn't looking and Fuga and Ikona (regrettably, they both agree) got busy
> 
> but Fuga could still just be Uncle Fuga, we just don't know

Ryoma stands with his back ramrod straight. He lunges forward, keeping his head directly above his shoulders, and slices downward with Raijinto. The sacred blade cuts through the air as easily as it cuts through flesh or wood, the sharp electric blade impervious to wear and tear. His father’s legacy, symbolized in the powerful katana handed down their bloodline for generations.

He has drilled for an hour now, and in the heat of the astral plane, his body, hair, and clothes are soaked with sweat. He goes through the motions of his practice several more times before carefully sheathing Raijinto. The crackle of electricity vanishes, along with the warmth radiating from the steel. 

“Your form is perfect.” A raspy voice sounds behind him, and Ryoma turns to find the Wind Tribe’s chieftain, Fuga, stand in the training area with his own katana strapped to his waist. The muscled warrior tosses a cloth to the crown prince, and he catches it in one hand.

“I thank you, Fuga,” Ryoma says, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. “But that does not mean I should grow complacent in my abilities.”

The older man laughs. He’s only been in their army for roughly a week, but already his chuckles are a common sound to hear. “Well said, Ryoma. You sound just like Sumeragi--and myself, I might add. He and I sparred with each other quite often.”

Ryoma nods, already familiar with the information. He can remember Fuga’s visits to Castle Shirasagi, and also his own trips with his father to the Wind Tribe’s territory; he was too young to seriously train with any of the warriors, but he watched his father and Fuga spar in what seemed almost like furious dances, they were so coordinated and graceful. “I remember.”

Fuga puts a hand on his katana. “It’s been awhile since I sparred with someone of Sumeragi’s caliber…. Would you mind terribly if we dueled?”

Ryoma’s smile curls into a smirk before he can stop himself. “I would be honored to spar with you, Fuga. I must admit I’ve wanted to since I was a child.”

Something sparks in the man’s eye, and he grins. He unsheathes his blade and drops into a ready stance. “Well then, we shall see if you truly live up to your father’s reputation.”

Ryoma takes out Raijinto once more. “I could never live up to his legacy, but I will spend every breath aspiring to.”

The prince darts in toward Fuga; the warrior deflects the attack with incredible strength and presses forward, forcing Ryoma to act defensively. When their blades meet, lightning sparks from Raijinto, nearly searing their skin when the electricity gets too close. Ryoma has fought those who would flinch from such light and heat, but Fuga only grins again, the sight seeming to fuel his energy. 

Ryoma sweeps low with Raijinto to try to catch Fuga unawares; Fuga jumps over the blade like he’s merely playing a game. He slashes downward toward Ryoma’s head, but the prince rolls out of the way. Fuga follows, forcing Ryoma to lift his blade in defense once again.

Their duel lasts for minutes, neither truly gaining the upper hand on the other. Most of the time Fuga seems to be in control of the flow of battle, but out of nowhere, Ryoma will pull a clever feint and force the older man backward.

Finally, as Ryoma pounces forward, Fuga lifts his foot and kicks the prince straight in the stomach; the breath leaves him as he falls backward into the dirt.

Fuga points his katana down at him. “Well done.”

Even in such a humiliating position, Fuga’s smile is infectious. Ryoma sits up as the two of them sheathe their swords, and Fuga leans down and offers his hand. Ryoma takes it, and when he’s standing, he bows toward the older man.

Fuga’s eyes go wide; Ryoma doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man flustered before. “There is no need for the crown prince of Hoshido to bow to me.”

“Nonsense. You deserve the honor, not only due to your station, but also as friend to my father.” Ryoma stands up fully once more. “I would hope that we would be able to spar again in the future, Fuga. One day I might find a gap in your defenses.”

Fuga relaxes a heartbeat too late, and he laughs. “You need only but ask, Ryoma. I will always have time for you.”

The way he says it causes Ryoma’s brow to furrow, but a second later, Fuga claps him on the shoulder. “The both of us are quite exhausted and filthy, if I may say. A trip to the baths seems to be in order, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ryoma nods. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

As they walk toward the baths, Fuga glances toward Ryoma. “You look so much like your father in his youth. Perhaps it is your standing.”

The prince’s heart warms at the thought. “Thank you, Fuga.”

Fuga smiles. “Your dedication to the blade is admirable as well. You have grown into a fine young man… Your father would be proud of you, as am I.”

Ryoma stops short despite himself, and Fuga stops a heartbeat later to look back at him. The prince struggles to keep his face from contorting with worry. “You are...sure?” He shakes his head immediately. “I apologize; I misspoke--”

“Of course I’m sure,” Fuga insists. “Raijinto chose you as its master, did it not? And you hold yourself with honor and dignity in everything that you do.” He laughs, though there’s a tinge of bitterness to the sound that seeps into his next words. “Sumeragi and I--when we were young, perhaps we didn’t have as much of that as we would have liked.

“But Ryoma,” he continues. “While you are right to be critical of yourself, you must also put faith in yourself. Of course your father would tell you how proud he is were he here. Have pride in yourself for the accomplishments that you have made, as well. As I said--Raijinto chose you to wield it, when it could have chosen any of your other siblings, or even someone else altogether. Take note of things such as these. They happen for a reason.”

Ryoma pauses, unsure of what to say. “...I will,” he says, forcing the doubt from his voice. 

Fuga smiles. “If you have any other thoughts, any at all, come find me whenever you would like to. I will be here.”

With that, he claps Ryoma on the shoulder once again and turns. “Come along. The baths could get full if we don’t hurry.”

The prince catches up in a few quick strides, and as they walk together, Fuga starts to share stories about his and Sumeragi’s youth, prompting Ryoma’s laughter.


End file.
